 | The Nice Valovr, or The Passionate Mad-man |  |
Actus Quintus.
Scæna prima.
Enter the 2. Brothers.Pas.
Ha, ha, ha.
Within.
2 Bro.
Hark, hark, how lowd his fit's growne.
Pas.
Ha, ha, ha.
1. Bro.
Now let our sister lose no time, but ply it
With all the power she has.
2 Bro.
Her shame growes big, brother;
The Cupids shape will hardly hold it longer,
'Twould take up half an Ell of China Damask more,
And all too little: it struts per'lously:
There is no tamp'ring with these Cupids longer,
The meere conceit with woman-kinde works strong.
Pas.
Ha, ha, ha.
2 Bro.
The laugh comes nearer now,
'Twere good we were not seen yet.
Ex. Broth.
Enter Passion. and Base his Jester.
Pas.
Ha, ha, ha.
And was he bastinado'd to the life? ha, ha, ha.
I prethee say, Lord Generall, how did the Rascals
Entrench themselves?
Base.
Most deeply, politickly, all in ditches.
Pas.
Ha, ha, ha.
Bas.
'Tis thought he'll ne're beare armes ith' field agen,
Has much adoe, to lift 'em to his head, sir.
Pas.
I would he had.
Base.
On either side round Truncheons plaid so thick,
That Shoulders, Chines, nay Flanks were paid toth' quick.
Pas.
Well said Lord Generall: ha, ha, ha.
Bas.
But pray how grew the difference first betwixt you?
Pas.
There was never any sir; there lies the jest man;
Onely because he was taller then his brother;
There's all my quarrell to him; and me thought
He should be beaten for't, my minde so gave me, sir,
I could not sleep for't; Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Another good jest quickly, while 'tis hot now;
Let me not laugh in vaine: ply me, O ply me,
As you will answer't to my Cozen Duke.
Bas.
Alas, who has a good jest?
Pas.
I fall, I dwindle in't.
Bas.
Ten Crowns for a good jest: ha' you a good jest, sir?
Enter Servant.
Serv.
A pretty morall one.
Bas.
Let's ha't, what ere it be.
Ser.
There comes a Cupid
Drawne by six fooles.
Bas.
That's nothing.
Pas.
Help it, help it then.
Bas.
I ha' known six hundred fooles drawn by a Cupid.
Pas.
I that, that, that's the smarter Morall: ha, ha, ha.
162
Bas.
Ile sing you a pleasant aire, sir, before you ebb.
Song.
Pas.
Oh how my Lungs doe tickle? ha, ha, ha.
Bas.
Oh how my Lungs doe tickle? oh, oh, ho, ho.
Pas.
Sings.
Set a sharp Jest
Against my breast,
Then how my Lungs doe tickle?
As Nightingales,
And things in Cambrick railes,
Sing best against a prickle,
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Bas.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ha.
Pas.
Laugh.
Bas.
Laugh.
Pas.
Laugh.
Bas.
Laugh.
Pas.
Wide.
Bas.
Loud.
Pas.
And vary.
Bas.
A smile is for a simpering Novice.
Pas.
One that ne're tasted Caveare,
Bas.
Nor knowes the smack of deare Anchovis.
Pas.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Bas.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.
Pas.
A gigling waiting wench for me,
That shewes her teeth how white they be.
Bas.
A thing not fit for gravitie.
For theirs are foule and hardly three.
Pas.
Ha, ha, ha.
Bas.
Ho, ho, ho.
Pas.
Democritus, thou ancient Fleerer,
Now I misse thy laugh, and ha' since.
Bas.
There you nam'd the famous Geerer,
That ever geer'd in Rome, or Athens.
Pas.
Ha, ha, ha.
Bas.
Ho, ho, ho.
Pas.
How brave lives he that keeps a foole,
Although the rate be deeper?
Pas.
But he that is his owne foole sir,
Does live a great deale cheaper.
Pas.
Sure I shal burst, burst, quite break thou art so witty.
Bas.
'Tis rare to break at Court for that belongs toth' City.
Pas.
Ha, ha, my spleen is almost worne to the last laughter.
Bas.
O keep a corner for a friend, a jest may come hereafter.
Enter Lapet and Clowne, and foure other like fooles, dancing, the Cupid leading, and bearing his Table, and holding it up to Lapet at every strain, and acting the postures.
Lap.
Twinge all now, twinge, I say.
2 Straine.Sowse upon Souse.
3 Straine.Douses single.
4 Straine.Justle sides.
5 Straine.Knee Belly.
6 Straine.Kicksee Buttock.
7 Straine.La.
Downe derry.
Enter Soldier, Shamonts Brother, his sword drawne.
Sol.
Not angry Law, nor doores of Brasse shal keep me
From my wrongs expiation, to thy Bowels,
I returne my disgrace; and after turne
My face to any death that can be sentenc'd.
Base.
Murder, O murder, stop the murderer there—
Lap.
I am glad hee's gone; h'as almost trod my guts out;
Follow him who list for me, Ile ha' no hand in't.
Clo.
Oh 'twas your luck and mine to be squelch'd Mr.
Has stamp'd my very Puddings into Pancakes.
Cup.
O Brothers, oh, I fear 'tis mortall: help, O helpe,
I'me made the wretched'st woman, by this accident,
That ever love beguil'd.
Enter 2. Brothers.
2 Bro.
We are undone Brother,
Our shames are too apparent: Away receptacle
Of Luxury, and dishonour, most unfortunate,
To make thy selfe but luckie to thy spoile,
After thy Sexes manner: lift him up Brother;
He breathes not to our comfort, hee's too wasted
Ever to cheere us more: A Chirurgeon speedily;
Hence; the unhappiest that ere stept aside,
Shee'll be a Mother before shee's known a Bride.
Cup.
Thou hadst a most unfortunate conception,
What ere thou prov'st to be; in midd'st of mirth
Comes ruine, for a welcome, to thy birth.
Exeunt.
Scæne 2.
Enter Shamont.Sham.
This is a beautifull life now; privacie
The sweetnesse and the benefit of essence:
I see there is no man, but may make his paradice;
And it is nothing, but his love, and dotage
Upon the worlds fowle joyes, that keeps him out on't:
For he that lives retir'd in minde, and spirit,
Is still in paradice, and has his innocence,
Partly allow'd for his companion too,
As much as stands with justice: here no eyes
Shoot their sharp pointed scornes upon my shame;
They know no termes of reputation here,
No punctuall limits, or precise dimensions;
Plaine downe-right honestie is all the beauty
And elegancy of life found amongst shepheards;
For knowing nothing nicely, or desiring it,
Quits many a vexation from the minde,
With which our quainter knowledge does abuse us;
The name of envy is a stranger here,
That dries mens blouds abroad, robs health and rest,
Why here's no such fury thought on: no, nor falsehood,
That brotherly disease, fellow-like devill,
That plaies within our bosome, and betrayes us.
Enter 1 Gent.
1 Gen.
Oh are you here?
Sham.
La Nove, 'tis strange to see thee.
1 Gen.
I ha' rid one horse to death,
To finde you out, sir.
Sham.
I am not to be found of any man
That saw my shame, nor seen long.
1 Gen.
Good, your attention:
You ought to be seen now, and found out sir,
If ever you desire before your ending
To performe one good office, nay a deare one,
Mans time can hardly match it.
Sham.
Bee't as pretious
As reputation; if it come from Court
I will not heare on't.
1 Gen.
You must heare of this, Sir.
Sham.
Must?
1 Gen.
You shall heare it.
Sham.
I love thee, that thoul't dye.
1 Gen.
'Twere nobler in me,
Then in you living: you will live a murderer,
If you deny this office.
Sha.
Ev'n to death sir.
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Why then you'l kill your brother.
Sham.
How?
1 Gent.
Your Brother sir:
Beare witnesse heaven, this man destroyes his brother
When he may save him, his least breath may save him:
Can there be wilfuller destruction?
He was forc'd to take a most unmanly wrong,
Above the suff'ring vertue of a Soldier,
Has kill'd his Injurer, a work of honour;
For which, unlesse you save him, he dyes speedily
My conscience is discharg'd, I'me but a friend,
A Brother should goe forward where I end.
Exit.
Sham.
Dyes?
Say he be naught, that's nothing to my goodnesse,
Which ought to shine through use, or else it loses
The glorious name 'tis knowne by: hee's my brother;
Yet peace is above bloud: Let him goe; I,
But where's the noblenesse of affection then?
That must be car'd for too, or I'me imperfect,
The same bloud that stood up in wrath against him,
Now in his miserie runs all to pity;
I'de rather dye than speak one sillable
To save my selfe: but living as I am,
There's no avoiding on't, the worlds humanity
Expects it hourely from me: curse of fortune,
I took my leave so well too: Let him dye,
'Tis but a brother lost; so pleasingly,
And swiftly I came off, 'twere more then irksomnesse,
To tread that path agen; and I shall never
Depart so handsomly: But then where's posterity?
The consummation of our house and name?
I'me torne in pieces betwixt love and shame.
Exit.
Scæne 3.
Enter Lapet, Clown, Poultrot, Moulbazon, and others, the new Court Officers.Lap.
Good morrow fellow Poltrot, and Moulbazon,
Good morrow fellowes all.
Pol.
Mounsieur Lapet?
Lap.
Look, I've remembred you, here's booksa piece for you.
Moul.
O sir, we dearely thank you.
Lap.
So you may;
There's two impressions gone already sirs.
Pol.
What no? in so short a time?
Lap.
'Tis as I tell you sir,
My Kick sells gallantly, I thank my stars.
Clo.
So does your Table; you may thank the Moon too.
Lap.
'Tis the Book sells the Table.
Clow.
But 'tis the Book-seller
That has the money for 'em, I'me sure o'that.
Lap.
'Twill much enrich the Company of Stationers,
'Tis thought 'twill prove a lasting benefit,
Like the Wise Masters, and the Almanacks,
The hundred Novells, and the Book of Cookerie,
For they begin already to engrosse it,
And make it a stock-book, thinking indeed
'Twill prove too great a benefit, and help,
For one that's new set up: they know their way,
And make him Warden, ere his beard be gray.
Moul.
Is't possible such vertue should lye hid,
And in so little paper?
Lap.
How? Why there was the Carpenter,
An unknowne thing, an odoriferous Pamphlet,
Yet no more Paper, by all computation,
Then Ajax Telamon would use at once,
Your Herring prov'd the like, able to buy
Another Fishers Folly, and your Pasquill
Went not below the mad-caps of that time,
And shall my elaborate Kick come behinde think you?
Clow.
Yes, it must come behinde, 'tis in Italica too,
According to your humour.
Lap.
Not in sale, varlet.
Clow.
In sale, sir? it shall saile beyond 'em all I troe.
Lap.
What have you there now? oh, Page, 21.
Clow.
That Page is come to his yeares, he should be a serving-man.
La.
Mark how I snap up the Duello there:
One would not use a dog so,
I must needs say; but's for the common good.
Clow.
Nay sir, your Commons seldome fight at sharp,
But buffet in a ware-house.
Lap.
This will save
Many a gentleman of good bloud from bleeding sirs,
I have a curse from many a Barber Surgeon;
They'd give but too much money to call't in;
Turne to Page 45. see what you finde there.
Clow.
O out upon him,
Page 45. that's an old theefe indeed.
Enter Duke, the Lady his sister, 1 Gent.
Lap.
The Duke, clap down your Books; away Galoshio.
Clow.
Indeed I am too foule to be ith' presence,
They use to shake me off at the chamber door still.
Ex.
Lady.
Good my Lord, grant my suit; let me not rise
Without the comfort on't: I have not often
Been tedious in this kinde.
Du.
Sister, you wrong your selfe,
And those great vertues that your fame is made of,
To waste so much breath for a Murderers life.
Lad.
You cannot hate th'offence more then I doe, sir,
Nor the offender, the respect I owe
Unto his absent brother, makes me a suitor,
A most importunate sister; make me worthy
But of this one request.
Duk.
I am deafe
To any importunacy, and sorry
For your forgetfulnesse; you never injur'd
Your worth so much, you ought to be rebuk'd for't:
Pursue good wayes, end as you did begin,
'Tis halfe the guilt to speak for such a sin.
Lad.
This is loves beggerie right, that now is ours,
When Ladies love, and cannot shew their powers.
Ex.
Du.
La Nove?
1 Gen.
My Lord.
Du.
Are these our new attendants?
Lap.
We are my Lord, and will endure as much
As better men, my Lord, and more I trust.
Du.
What's hee?
1 Gen.
My Lord, a decay'd Gentleman,
That will doe any service.
Du.
A decay'd one?
1 Gent.
A renounc'd one indeed; for this place only.
Du.
We renounce him then go, discharge him instantly.
He that disclaimes his gentry for meere gaines,
That man's too base to make a vassaile on.
Lap.
What saies the Duke?
1 Gen.
Faith little to your comfort sir,
You must be a gentleman agen.
Lap.
How?
1 Gent.
There's no remedy.
Lap.
Marry, the fates forfend: ne're while I breath sir.
1 Gen.
The Duke will have it so, there's no resisting.
He spide it i' your fore-head.
Lap.
My wife's doing.
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And su'd to ha' me a gentleman agen.
1 Gent.
And very likely sir:
Marry Ile give you this comfort when all's done,
You'll never passe but for a scurvey one,
That's all the helpe you have: come shew your pace.
Lap.
The heaviest gentleman that e're lost place;
Beare witnesse I am forc't to't.
Exit.
Duke.
Though you have a courser title yet upon you,
Then those that left your places, without blame,
Tis in your power to make your selves the same:
I cannot make you gentlemen, that's a work
Rais'd from your owne deservings; merit, manners,
And in-borne vertue doe's it. Let your own goodnesse
Make you so great, my power shall make you greater;
And more t'encourage you, this I adde agen,
There's many Grooms now exact Gentlemen.
Enter Shamont.
Sham.
Me thinks 'tis strange to me to enter here:
Is there in nature such an awfull power,
To force me to this place? and make me doe this?
Is mans affections stronger then his will?
His resolution? was I not resolv'd
Never to see this place more? Doe I beare
Within my breast one bloud that confounds th'other?
The bloud of love, and will, and the last weakest?
Had I ten Millions, I would give it all now,
I were but past it, or 'twould never come;
For I shall never do't, or not do't well,
But spoyle it utterly betwixt two passions.
Yonder's the Duke himselfe, I will not do't now,
Had twenty lives their severall sufferings in him.
Exit.
Duke.
Who's that went out now?
Pol.
I saw none, my Lord.
Du.
Nor you?
Moul.
I saw the glimpse of one my Lord.
Du.
What ere it was, methought it pleas'd me strangly,
And suddenly my joy was ready for't.
Did you not marke it better?
Pol. & Moul.
Troth my Lord,
We gave no great heed to't.
Enter Shamont.
Sham.
'T will not be answer'd,
It brings me hither still; by maine force hither:
Either I must give over to professe humanity,
Or I must speak for him.
Duke.
'Tis here agen:
No marvaile 'twas so pleasing, 'tis delight
And worth it selfe, now it appeares unclouded.
Sham.
My Lord—
He turnes away from mee: by this hand
I am ill-us'd of all sides: 'tis a fault
That fortune ever had t'abuse a goodnesse.
Duke.
Methought you were saying somewhat.
Sham.
Marke the Language,
As coy as fate; I see 'twill nere be granted.
Du.
We little look'd in troth to see you here yet.
Sham.
Not till the day after my brothers death, I think.
Du.
Sure some great businesse drew you.
Sha.
No insooth, sir,
Onely to come to see a brother dye sir,
That I may learne to goe too; and if he deceive me not,
I think he will doe well in't of a souldier,
Manly, and honestly: and if he weep then,
I shall not think the worse on's man-hood for't,
Because hee's leaving of that part that has it.
Duk.
Has slaine a noble gentleman, thinke on't, sir?
Sham.
I would I could not sir.
Duk.
Our Kinsman too.
Sham.
All this is but worse sir.
Du.
When 'tis at worst,
Yet seeing thee, he lives.
Sham.
My Lord—
Du.
He lives,
Believe it as thy blisse, he dyes not for't:
Will this make satisfaction for things past?
Sham.
Oh my Lord—
Du.
Will it? speak.
Sh.
With greater shame to my unworthinesse.
Du.
Rise then, wee're ev'n: I never found it harder
To keep just with a man: my great work's ended.
I knew your brothers pardon was your suit, sir,
How ever your nice modestie held it back.
Sham.
I take a joy now, to confesse it, sir.
Enter 1. Gent.
1 Gent.
My Lord—
Du.
Heare me first, sir, what e're your newes be:
Set free the Souldier instantly.
1 Gen.
Tis done, my Lord.
Du.
How?
1 Gen.
In effect: 'twas part of my newes too,
There's faire hope of your noble kinsmans life sir.
Du.
What saist thou?
1 Gen.
And the most admired change
That living flesh e're had; he's not the man my Lord;
Death cannot be more free from passions, sir,
Then he is at this instant: hee's so meek now,
He makes those seem passionate, was never thought of:
And for he feares his moods have oft disturb'd you sir,
Hee's onely hasty now for his forgivenesse,
And here behold him sir.
Enter Passion, the Cupid, and two brothers.
Du.
Let me give thanks first: our worthy Cousen—
Pas.
Your unworthy trouble sir;
For which, with all acknowledg'd reverence,
I aske your pardon; and for injurie
More knowne and wilfull, I have chose a wise,
Without your counsell, or consent, my Lord.
Duke.
A wife? where is she sir?
Pas.
This noble Gentlewoman.
Duk.
How?
Pas.
Whose honour my forgetful times much wrong'd.
Du.
Hee's madder then he was.
1 Gen.
I would ha' sworne for him.
Du.
The Cupid, cousen?
Pas.
Yes, this worthy Lady, sir.
Du.
Still worse and worse.
1 Bro.
Our sister under pardon, my Lord.
Du.
What?
2 Bro.
Which shape Love taught her to assume.
Du.
Is't truth then?
1 Ge.
It appears plainly now below the waste my Lord.
Du.
Shamont, didst ever read of a she-Cupid?
Sham.
Never in fiction yet: but it might hold sir;
For Desire is of both Genders.
Enter the Dukes sister.
Du.
Make that good here:
I take thee at thy word, sir.
He joyns Shamonts hand and his Sisters.
Sham.
O my Lord,
Love would appeare too bold, and rude from me,
165
Her goodnesse is my Saint, my Lord.
Duke.
I see,
Y'are both too modest to bestow your selves:
Ile save that vertue still; 'tis but my paines: come,
It shall be so.
Sham.
This gift does but set forth my poverty.
Lady.
Sir, that which you complaine of is my riches.
Enter Shamonts brother the Souldier.
Du.
Soldier, now every noise sounds peace, th'art welcome.
Sol.
Sir my repentance sues for your blest favour,
Which once obtain'd, no injury shall lose it;
Ile suffer mightier wrongs.
Duk.
Rise, lov'd and pardon'd;
For where hope fail'd, nay Art it selfe resign'd,
Thou'st wrought that cure, which skil could never find;
Nor did there cease, but to our peace extend;
Never could wrongs boast of a nobler end.
Exeunt.
| The Nice Valovr, or The Passionate Mad-man | |